


Patchwork

by Oodles



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oodles/pseuds/Oodles
Summary: Your favorite traveling merchant decides whether or not he should help the latest ashen one in her quest.





	Patchwork

A true champion of ash, are we? Heavens above, she’s got no clue. Bumbling around like a lost lamb. All those goods, squandered on such a fool. I could make a quick fortune if the lass would just go and die. 

For some reason, she simply refuses. 

What are they doing, anyhow? All this ash running amok really threw a wrench in my business ventures. Still, most of them have the good sense to drop dead after a while. Something about this one, though— it’s rather annoying. You can see it in them, that look of purpose that makes them think this whole bloody excursion will be worth all the trouble. All the more tragic and pointless in the end when they bite off more than they can chew. 

I’ve seen it a thousand times. All it takes is one measly pep talk and these piles of ash go running off like they’ve got the sun in their shoes. They all do it for different reasons— or so they tell themselves. I know, though, what they’re really after. That’s how it is, when you find them fallen along their journey. The treasure these saps will die for is ridiculous. 

They run through sewers and jump off cliffs and practically throw themselves at the feet of their enemies for a chance to touch something golden. And even those who claim they’re not in it for the resale value… what is glory if not another piece of treasure? 

_ I’ll bring the lords back to their thrones. _

Bollocks.

_ I’ll rekindle the first flame. _

How rich! To live such a delusion. Must be nice, actually, to think you have a noble goal. And this one, she fights with such purpose. It’s clear that she believes in herself. People don’t blunder into these victories. There is something inside her, some (dare I say it) fire that seems to guide her. In this day and age, though, perhaps it’s more appropriate to say she’s driven by more of a  _ spark _ . 

I don’t barter in falsehoods. My currency is more practical. And you don’t see me hoarding goods for myself either. Getting attached to things is what gets you killed in Lordran. Best to keep things light and on the move. No time for friends, no time for homes, no time for lying about in front of the bonfire. 

I’ve trekked through more than my share of this godforsaken land and I know what’ll keep me safe, but I must say, this particular ashpile really seems different sometimes. Not that I think she is, of course, but merely that I haven’t seen one quite so very spirited. It’s almost as if she’s possessed. It’s odd. Sometimes I find myself even rooting for the poor thing. Someone will no doubt get to her, so it’s best for me to keep my distance. It’s not as though what I have will make the difference, and I’m sure, deep down, she’s just the same as the others. 

Still, there’s something I feel every once a while. An urge. I wouldn’t call it  _ hope _ exactly. More like… inspiration. She won’t win, I’ve no doubt about it, but it’s almost heartening to watch her. I like to play the what-if game while she runs around. 

Oh, what if she wins this one? What if she shows those beasts what for? What if she even starts collecting all that useless cinder? I’ve wondered for some time what the world will look like if that fire goes out. I think I’ll manage, as I alway have, but there’s a comfort that exists in ash like her. Hollowed to the bone, but still fighting like she has something to fight  _ for _ . The world has done nothing kind to her, and yet, here she is, trying to fix it. 

I gave up fixing long ago, so it does well to have someone like her around. The rest of us, we just serve ourselves, because that’s what keeps us alive. But her. I suppose the world needs someone like her. Maybe I could do a spot of good, after all. Not that I think she’ll succeed, of course, but a friendly face is worth a thousand treasures to some. 

But first… a little test never hurt.

 

\- 

 

This monument. I can feel its power. I can feel it absolutely. Should I kneel? Should I pray? There are no instructions, no methods to discern, only the rotted dregs of past hollows clinging to it. They must have flocked to this place, to rid themselves of their own disgrace. I can barely remember how I got here, let alone who I used to be, but I know this is where my journey has delivered me and I’m not about to leave the same as I am now.

Which is to say… hollow. 

Strange that all I can remember is that I used to be full. Full of life, full of memories, full of strength. All I know now is that I am wrong. 

That girl running around— something about her is familiar. But I think that may just be a product of this twisted place. This city, all stitched-up remnants of the worlds gone by. You can find artifacts of every age, I swear. It should be beautiful, but all I feel is pity. 

What is beauty without the context to appreciate it? 

Oh, gods, have I always been so exhausting? I’m a danger to myself at this rate— waxing poetic for no reason. All it is is fear of the next step. For some odd reason, I find I wish that girl were here with me. Even if it is false, that familiarity is precious. Something tells me I should do this on my own, though. Something tells me… we will not like what we find on the other side. 

Oh, hush this nonsense and fix it already. 

One step closer. Perhaps another. How many others have done this very thing, journeyed so very far and given up right here at the last chance? Not you, not this time. You are here for a reason. You are  _ unbreakable _ . Nothing to lose, everything to gain, no one owed, no one missed.

Here we are, old friend. We’ve seen it all, haven’t we? 

All we have to do is keep on forging ahead through the darkness. When the only thing you can depend on is yourself, it’s easy to find your way back. 

That being said… the girl. 

Not that she  _ did _ anything.

Not that she’ll succeed. 

But… ah, treasures come in all shapes, don’t they? Maybe a trinket left behind will do. A show of good faith in this dreg heap. After all, look at how far she’s come. Incredible to think that a little pile of ash could have made it this far and still, for some reason, continue to trust a stranger. 

She didn’t really have to tell me about this place. I probably would have found it in my own in due time. A few moments of time saved isn’t much when you’ve lived as long as I have, but she doesn’t know that. All she knows is her own journey, and yet, she stopped to help mine. 

What a fool. Naive, really. It’ll get her killed, no doubt. But, for now, perhaps she likes the look of my armor.  

It won’t be the rest she needs, it won’t be the mightiest sword, probably can’t sell it for much either, but maybe she’ll take comfort in it. Who knows, in this time, in this fractured world, what will mean something and what will be seen as disposable. 

Maybe I see a bit of myself in her.

Maybe that’s why I keep pushing her— figuratively speaking, of course. 

The literal pushing… well that was just a spot of fun.

Good luck, unkindled, ashen, hollow, friend. 

You’ll need it. 


End file.
